7 Days in Institution
by Iseki
Summary: Starry Night Festival and the resulting week at Mirabelle's. First attempt at pairingfic based on the common Vaughn glitch. Complete.
1. VAUGHN GETS READY

_7 DAYS IN INSTITUTION_

_Summary: Sunshine Islands. Starry Night Festival and the resulting week at Mirabelle's. Based on the common Vaughn glitch. Why did he stay? Why won't he accept gifts? Why does he stubbornly repeat the same sentence again and again? And how does the hard-working Chelsea combat this? Game and character observations a plenty. Romance/Comedy/Drama!_

_Notes: whilst reading Vaughn fiction... I discovered that many of the scenes while reminiscent were very different from my current play through. Upon researching (because I can be pretty thick if its not spelled out for me) I discovered that Island of Happiness has a higher volume of, and more diverse scenes. I was duped. I__'ve woo'd Will to a yellow event nevertheless but my heart is safely in one porridge-eating, spurs-clacking, pretty white-haired cowboy's tight denim pocket. This is for those Vaughn-lovers who like me feel they may have missed out slightly despite the gift of youtube._

_This is based on my play through of Sunshine Islands: IoH's younger and less frivolous brother. Year 2: Starry Night Festival on Tuesday... a plot bunny built around a game glitch. At some sections this might possibly verge on the edge of abuse for poor Vaughn but in all truth and fact he really did not leave Mirabelle's until the noodle festival on the following Tuesday during this glitch and that makes for pretty interesting conjecture. Not to mention that the character traits that Vaughn reveals in between heart scenes and finally after marriage show him to be a curious little egg of mysteries waiting to be cracked._

_PS. Please do not prejudice on my chapter titles as I have pointedly made them silly for my own cheap amusement._

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* * *

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_VAUGHN GETS A HAIRCUT_

Tuesday 11:50am

His breaths came quick and heavy. Sweat had formed a fine sheen across his brow and his fingers clenched tightly onto well known and caressed material. Her breathing was just a laboured. Their activity had left them breathless and locked in a stalemate. Her hands were poised delicately; prepared to strike in a moment's opportunity.

"Oh for heaven sakes you two! Vaughn, it's only a hat. Julia, you're making a scene." Mirabelle slapped the rag she was using to polish her counter tops over her shoulder and bustled past them to Felicia who had her eyes pinched shut in a fit of bell-like laughter. Vaughn, as any self-respecting man would in such a case, pulled his hat in a tilt across the fluorescent colouring that had crept into his cheeks. Julia however persisted.

"Yes, it's only a hat. You can hardly see and tonight of all nights is one where you vision should be unimpaired and your visage to be comely." She punctuated her sentence with a shrill snip of the scissors. Vaughn, beneath his hat, was rueing the second he allowed these two to hear his half-hearted agreement to their silly matchmaking scheme. No one had said anything about a haircut in those first critical moments.

Felicia took this cue to put in her two cents, "I'm sure that the little lady will appreciate the added effort. Think of the returns!" He was fairly sure his ears were puffing out steam. Her face came unbidden to him and his arms fell lax at his sides. Damn these women. He was bullied, beaten, and outnumbered. Bad odds in any game. Julia made an annoyingly high-pitched and victoriously sing-song sound and grabbed his Stetson from his head. Mirabelle pushed a spare stool behind him and his knees folded until he sat in a slouching, disgruntled position to accept his fate. He closed his eyes and Julia began with the first cut.

"Oh how wonderful." Felicia clapped her hands.

* * *

Monday 8:20am

"a party?"

He swallowed. Not too thickly that she noticed however, so he carried on as usual. "Mirabelle and Julia are throwing it. Will you come?" He wondered if he was being too terse for an invitation but again her face showed no reaction to suggest she found it out of the ordinary. She put a finger to her lips and tapped once looking skyward. He would throttle the fisherman, the loincloth-fetishist, and the rich kid all in the same movement if she said she had other plans. And he even sort of liked Denny. Her eyes playfully trained back on him and he swore he saw her wink. His heart clenched. Damn. She got him.

"I would love to." With that she thrust the lukewarm porridge they'd made such a routine out of exchanging each morning into his palms and hurried out with her arms full of chicken feed. He was still forming his thanks on his tongue and was sure that at that moment he looked very much like a fish gulping on air.

Julia stirred the contents of her bottomless cooking pot in the kitchen with a smile and her silence said more than her words.

* * *

Tuesday Noon

There was a very sparse amount of hair on the floor but enough to satisfy them both. Mirabelle went about sweeping it up and Julia and Felicia busied themselves complimenting his new look. He checked the mirror that was held out to him. It was quite like his old look just a little shorter where it hung. He was never much one for reflections so without hesitation he replaced his hat and pushed away from the women, ready to be free of them for a minute. Or an hour.

His vest was snagged around the collar and he pulled back and went limp like a cub being picked up by its mother. At the other end was Mirabelle wagging her finger.

"ah, ah, ah. You are staying for all the preparations, dear." The colour drained from his face. Even though his work was done for the day ha had planned to do a little bit here and there on the islands. _Just one hour..._He thought of Chelsea: always in a rush. He appealing smile as she tripped and stumbled trying to wave to him while she crossed the beach with a fish flapping in her free hand. She charmed him. She annoyed him. She was foolishly unselfish. It had taken him weeks to admit he had a soft spot for her.

_Hey, have you got a minute._

_What is it? I've always got a minute for you!_

_You wanna go somewhere? ...With me._

_Sure, I've finished here for the day and I was thinking about grabbing some lunch, wanna hit the diner?_

_Not the diner_. His hand was hot when it reached for hers_. Somewhere, just us._

_

* * *

_

The Previous Monday 4:20pm

First they took a boat to Meadow Island. Vaughn would rather that they had their own boat and needn't sit awkwardly together with Kirk, but the boatman didn't leer at them any more than necessary nor make any comments that Julia and Mirabelle might. The wide open space served to placate him, despite the breeze off the ocean being bitterly cool. When they got there the sunshine was flickering behind the trees and Chelsea was making small comments on her daily routine, clearly affected by the mood of the situation. Her cheeks were pink; any previous bravado had been forgotten. When the reached the beach they were silent, the wind tousling her loose hair and ruffling his clothes. The dappled light shimmered on the waves.

"Oh, I tried your advice with Moomin..." her heifer. She refused to budge in the mornings on days when she'd put them outside. His advice was to soothe her first with a milking and a brushing before guiding her outside by a handful of fodder instead of pushing her backside from the get go. Some cows could be moody when they were milk-laden in the morning and that made them stubborn. Miscommunication could end in injury for both parties. "It worked," She started again, smiling at him pleasantly. "You really know your stuff."

Something caught in his throat. It wasn't that he hadn't expected the compliment nor that he didn't believe he deserved it.

"Chelsea." it may have been the first time he used her name and not 'you' or 'girl'. It worked to make him even more certain of his words. Being able to help her at all made him feel lighter. "I really respect you." The breeze swept strands of chestnut across her face that had watched him closely then. When it settled her eyes were alight and there was a confident smile on her lips.

"I respect you too." This however shook him. Her gaze told him that she understood exactly what had been said. What he'd meant by it. He forgot to hide his expression; he gaped at her. The sunset highlighted the flush that had rushed to his cheeks.

"r-really." He cursed himself and she nodded in that over-enthusiastic way of hers. The water shuffled the stone and sands around his heels. Floundering for his next words, his thoughts were cut off by a sudden weight in his hands. She continued to beam at him until he glanced down at his fingers holding the same tepid and slightly lumpy porridge she'd given him every morning.

When was it that she'd realized?

* * *

Tuesday 5:00pm

He was pacing. Well his mind was. He wasn't so lost that he couldn't control his own feet. He was stood stock still in his usual place. So still that as Mirabelle moved dishware and table linen and sparkly looking glasses from dust and storage to the kitchen she gave him worried passing glances. As if he might suddenly fall over, a cardboard cut-out; proof of his astonishing escape.

Thankfully after proving that he was less than gifted at cooking his surrogate family shuffled him out of the kitchen and put a broom and dusting rag in his hands. Actually, he wasn't all that gifted at cleaning either. Mirabelle clicked her tongue when he dusted the shelves and then immediately took up sweeping the fluff and bunnies in the corners. Apparently this causes more dust to settle all over again... the rag hit the floor and sent a whorl of grime back into his eyes.

Julia appreciated the boot-stomping, curse-stringing, eyes-streaming scene afterward with a graceful smile that veiled her mischievousness.


	2. CHELSEA'S FIRST KISS

CHELSEA'S FIRST KISS

_This time from Chelsea__'s POV__._

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* * *

_

Tuesday 6:10pm

Her knuckles hovered along the heavy wood of Mirabelle's door. She realized she had been holding her breath and inhaled the crisp evening air in attempt to calm her racing nervousness. She wasn't a child anymore! And yet here she was stood outside 10 minutes past the arranged time (stylishly late!) with sweaty palms and her heart banging in her chest like a teenager's. Besides, it wasn't exactly a date... Mirabelle and Julia would be there too. More like...meeting the parents. No wait, that didn't make it any easier!

She clutched her head in inexperience. Bringing a ranch back to fruitfulness on a previously ramshackle island was much easier.

The door opened. There stood Vaughn with one beautifully deep violet eye peeking out at her from under hat and hair and looking startled. He hadn't expected to see her stood there. She jumped back.

"What are yo—"

"Ah hah ha ha! Knock knock! Anyone there?" He was silent. "you didn't hear me knocking?"

"you have to knock for me to hear."

"Oh I was knocking! Believe you me!" she laughed again albeit a little forcefully. Realizing something, "why were you checking if you didn't hear a knock?" His frown was like an inverted V. He was getting quicker at hiding his embarrassment. He pulled his hat down a little, opened the door wider for her and gestured at the air.

"Because it's snowing." She blinked at him then looked up at the night sky. Delicate snowflakes fell and melted in her raised eyelashes. She recognized that her shoulders actually felt a little soggy and that it had been snowing all the while she was trying to gather her composure and she hadn't even noticed.

"huh. So it is." Mesmerized by the falling night sky she moved to get through the door and met something warm with a jolt. Vaughn had also been transfixed by the weather and was set halfway out the door, with an elbow still leaning against it to hold it open. It was within this curve of his body that she had accidentally placed herself. So cautiously he lowered his gaze to hers. Neither moved. The heat between them was laced with electricity. If he wasn't that much taller than she he would have had her eyes out on the brim of that hat. But at this close proximity she could look up at his face and into deepening amethyst orbs without it getting in the way. She remembered the day she'd met him. How he exuded a cool and superior air and rebuffed most of her questions. How she vowed to get under his skin; seems like she could do anything with enough effort and time.

She said his name. Hopefully not as breathlessly as she felt, "You've cut your hair."

* * *

Tuesday 6:30pm

Julia caught them gawking at each other in the entrance and seemed to take great satisfaction in calling them out on it. Although her expression remained serene and kind as always she still gave Chelsea a wink on the way to the kitchen and it was returned with a gentle elbow in her side. Vaughn has gone ahead, pulling his hat down tighter by force of habit.

The wonderful festive smells and warmth from the oven welcomed them in. Mirabelle has decorated the table with her finest china and branches of holly. "Don't be shy now! There's plenty to be eaten." Before they'd even sat down -and Vaughn did an uncharacteristic gentlemanly thing of pushing her chair in after shed taken her seat- the dumpy woman had set two bowls of pumpkin soup down along with two steaming cups of hot chocolate. It seemed a bit of an odd combination to Chelsea but she could hardly contain herself when the rich-smelling steam filled her nostrils.

Across the table Vaughn had begun spooning his soup calmly. He was obviously more civil about his mealtimes than she was accustomed to. She was always so busy that she'd manage to gulp something down at any hour of the day before getting straight back to it. She could also tell he wasn't going to be much for conversation whilst eating. She looked to Julia who eyes were darting between her guests expectantly; she was still stood alongside Mirabelle who seemed to be contending with other dishes, her back turned to them.

"You aren't staying Julia?" the response was a lilting little chuckle.

"I'm afraid I'm expected elsewhere." Chelsea immediately recalled seeing Elliot at the shop yesterday talking to Julia shyly, his apron twisting in his hands while she answered with her eyes glittering. She knew that look. Any woman would know that look.

"Of course." Chelsea beamed. "See you tomorrow." Julia gave a minute bow to the seated pair, kissed her mother on the cheek, and strolled out of the room. Chelsea heard the door close in the thick quietness of the snowy evening and watched Vaughn take a sip of his hot chocolate.

Mirabelle finally seated herself with a likewise cup and saucer.

"How lovely that we get snow on this day. Shame that it might make the stars a little bit difficult to spot, but I expect you kids won't be doing much star-gazing tonight anyway." Vaughn dropped his spoon with a clatter and Mirabelle took a long disinterested slurp of her chocolate. Chelsea stared at Vaughn with wide eyes and he stared back, a drop of pumpkin soup that was flung in stark contrast against his cheeks and the redness that settled there. Mirabelle made a throat-clearing noise that concealed her laughter.

Eventually the hostess stopped her teasing and fetched the second course from the counter and Vaughn wiped his cheek. They all tucked in to the fish meuniere and steamed rice. Chelsea's unease was forgotten in the place of such a fine dish and she ate as civilly and slowly as she could. When their bellies were filled and the plates cleaned Mirabelle began collecting the dishes and carrying them to the sink.

"I'll help! It's the least I can do after such a terrific meal." She reached for Vaughn's empty cup and glanced at him. There was a small smile playing on his lips and he'd closed his eyes peacefully.

"Thank you Mirabelle." His drawl was stronger than usual, probably due to all the food making him a bit languid. Chelsea chuckled noiselessly to herself and took the rest of the dishes to Mirabelle.

"You're very welcome Vaughn. You know Julia and I think of you as family." Chelsea recalled what Vaughn had said to her a few days ago after an innocent question on her part: _I don't have any family. _His eyes had blazed.

"I know." He replied, looking off at the snow piling up on the window instead of at Mirabelle's easy grin.

"Good." With that she handed the first washed plate to Chelsea to dry.

* * *

Tuesday 9:40pm

The second part of their night, after and evening tipple and story-telling with Mirabelle, found them bundled up against the cold trying to spy the stars from the dock to Lighthouse Island on her ranch. Here the sky was a wide open expanse across the sea. Even after Mirabelle's earlier dig they both agreed it would be best to see out the event until its completion. This agreement was largely made with a lot of nervous half-sentences and excuses before the head of the house put a flask of hot chocolate into Chelsea's rucksack and pushed them out the door.

The snow still fell steadily and the waves on the ocean were tranquil enough to only knock the boat against its moorings lightly now and again. She'd stopped to fetch a light blanket from her closet on the way and it was now wrapped around the shoulders of them both. The boat bumped.

"I think I see one." Her slim white hand peeked out from a corner of the blanket to point.

"a reflection of the snow." He answered without hesitation.

"How about there." she pointed again.

"You're delirious with hypothermia. Maybe we ought to get you inside." She knocked their shoulders together.

"Come on, you're spoiling it." Still she smiled. She careful opened the carafe and poured out a small portion of the chocolate to offer to him, knowing he couldn't resist it. His partially gloved fingers snaked out from somewhere under the blanket and took it with a grateful nod. Pouring some for her self, the warmth immediately spread through her fingers and puffed into the night air. She didn't want to think when his ferry would be leaving. She didn't want to think about the sun rising on Wednesday. She only wanted this intensely cold, starless night to carry on and on. There was another thump from the boat.

His arm crept around her and she huddled closer. The electric heat was still there. She was buzzing with it. But at the same time she felt that this was the most natural thing to do. Her jaw rested somewhere in the junction between shoulder and collarbone, nestled in his kerchief. She felt him raise his cup to his lips and drink deeply, and so took a tiny swallow herself. When she'd finished his chin nudged against her forehead until she tilted her face upward and was met by his lips on hers. Soft and sweet.

Her first kiss tasted of chocolate.


	3. WEDNESDAY SUCKS

_WEDNESDAY SUCKS_

Wednesday 8:30am

Chelsea woke at the usual time: aided a little bit more by her alarm clock today than she would be normally. She rubbed at her eyes and tugged her bandana straight as she crossed her field to the stables. The snow had all but melted as it fell, leaving only a fine whiteness draped over the grass where it had frozen in the night. Her first heifer and ewe came to her as she entered, butting their faces up against her thighs. She dropped her heavy rucksack down by the door and quickly reciprocated their affections.

After visiting all three buildings Chelsea decided it was high-time for some breakfast and dragged her feet into town. She silently promised herself an early night.

A notably sure and deep female voice interrupted her walk towards the diner doors. "What's the matter Chelsea, you look terrible."

"Thanks Natalie. Good morning to you too."

The redhead didn't flinch, but a sudden devilish smile crept across her features. "Ahh, I see. The festival." She sidled up to Chelsea until they were shoulder to shoulder, being of the exact same height. "Who did you spend the night with?" Chelsea tried to swallow the rising heat in her face and Natalie laughed at the reaction. "I want to know! You seem so friendly with all the boys." The shoulder docked with her own nudged.

Chelsea was aghast, "that's not true! I'm friendly with everyone! The only one I've ever given any special attention to was Vau-" Natalie declared her win with a loud enough 'ah-ha!' to send her brother who was working nearby in the shipping bin into an impressive jump and the heat in Chelsea's face reached such a high she was sure she felt a pop.

Natalie moved in front of her and brushed her hands together in a job-well-done manner. "You're both so much fun to tease." Chelsea recovered enough to give her a questioning look which the inherent ESP between girlfriends allowed Natalie to pick up with ease. "Vaughn's still here. He missed the ferry last night and he's just sitting in the shop like a lump. It was pretty easy to guess why he missed it. The only girls he even minutely pays notice to is Julia- because he has to-, Sabrina- because she's taken a shine to him- and you- because you basically stalk him."

Chelsea balked, "I've never stalked him!"

"Uh huh." Natalie was unmoved. "Then do you know where you're likely to find the guy at 3pm on a Tuesday?" Chelsea was not about to amuse her friend with the answer and instead pressed her lips together in a firm line. "Okay flower, you don't have to answer that one." She gave a gentle pat to the brunette. Chelsea sent a wayward glance in the direction of Mirabelle's. "So," Natalie started. "are you going to skip breakfast and check up on him, or can I join you for a while? I'm dying to tell you about my evening with Pierre. Julia said-"

"Sorry Natalie, can I take a rain check? 5 minutes tops!" Chelsea pressed her palms together in front of her nose with one eye squeezed shut while the other looked at her friend pleadingly.

"Yeah...that was the answer I expected."

* * *

Wednesday 8:50am

As soon as Chelsea entered the shop she met Vaughn's stare and almost mistook the look in his eyes for eagerness. He nodded in her direction, imperceptibly to someone who wasn't familiar with his demeanour, his hat and hair covering the left part of his face from view. She took the hint and first went to greet Mirabelle at the counter.

"Good Morning Chelsea dear! Thank you for your company last night. Good to know I can still throw a good bash when I need to." Her smile lit up her face and creased her eyes.

"Thanks for having me. If it wasn't for the work around the farm I'd still be full after all that food. Which reminds me..." She removed her rucksack from her shoulder and pulled last night's canteen out of it. "I'll return this." Another sideways glance to Vaughn, who was still stood with an eye hidden. He was suddenly vague.

Mirabelle thanked her and Julia hailed from the kitchen but stayed to carry out her work. Chelsea shuffled over to Vaughn feeling unprepared without the usual handout of porridge to present him and suddenly very self-conscious. She pulled at a strand of errant hair and finally spoke, "Hi."

"What."

She wasn't sure what kind of answer she was anticipating but was accustomed to this type of response by now. "It's Wednesday."

"Thanks for the update."

"You missed the ferry?"

He was obviously agitated enough that the implications of why he missed the ferry failed to strike any chord of embarrassment. Instead he huffed and crossed his arms.

She took a deep breath, "Want to go somewhere?" The echo of his words wasn't wasted. She caught his eye once more and urged him with her gaze. She thought that this was enough. She thought that she could read him by now.

His glower was razor-sharp. "No."

* * *

Wednesday 10:30pm

Natalie's fork tapped the rim of her coffee cup and brought Chelsea back to her dessert, the spoonful only inches from her mouth. Pierre could be heard heartily complimenting Halia on today's dessert; his hat perched upon his hair precariously as he tasted it loudly. Natalie pressed her napkin to the corner of his mouth almost mothering and they shared a smile that faintly painted the apples of their cheeks pink and seemed to send the atmosphere itself rosy. Chelsea took a noisy sip of coffee.

"A-anyway." Natalie set her napkin down and Pierre went back to sampling. "I was saying don't take it to heart. You know exactly what he's like. You've been here nearly as long as he has."

"I know." She answered clearly: without doubt. But started again slowly, "I just thought it would be different now. He seemed...open." She remembered his sweet unhesitating kiss. "But he will do and say what he wants however bluntly it may come across." Even if sometimes it was in a backwards sort of manner, it was something she'd always found refreshing. "It just worries me. He might just change his mind the same way."

"He's not that fickle." The fork was wagged. "He's just being an oversensitive idiot about missing his ride back to the mainland. Think about it: that means missing out on _profits_ too." Natalie's attempt to imitate Vaughn was ignored.

Chelsea pursed her lips around a spoonful of cake. She knew he took his industry very seriously or he wouldn't lecture so much. She shouldn't be sulking. She dropped the utensil next to her plate which still had half a slice of cake on it. "Thanks Natalie. I've gotta go now. See you Pierre, thanks for joining us."

He returned her genuine smile with a significantly wide one of his own, "My pleasure madam!" Natalie waved, and Chelsea was out the door.

She would ignore him. Any woman would. But she would ignore him and work. Work hard. The abundance in her daily profits might impress him, but more importantly that was what she was here for. To work and prosper. Not to wait around on cowboys. Although she held onto the hope that tomorrow might bring a different answer any way.


	4. VAUGHN TAKES ONE FOR THE TEAM

_VAUGHN TAKES ONE FOR THE TEAM_

Wednesday 10:20pm

He heard her before he found her. Halfway up the beaten track to the ranch a dull clack of hammer and rock. Once. Twice. Her girlish cry echoing in the fallen night followed by a shrill shattering. He kept a steady pace until he stood a few yards away. Thankfully the light of the moon lit up the field or with his dark ensemble she might have swung that hammer in his direction. Her shirt was tied around her waist and her long yellow sleeves rolled up as much as possible. The red boots and bandana were dusty and she'd been sweating with the labour.

When she saw him she dropped the hammer down beside her foot and leaned a palm on the handle end facing him. The stance did very well to hide any vulnerability. If she'd been any taller he might have been intimidated enough to turn back but even with the potency of a hard days work radiating off of her he was still struck by how small she was. He didn't have time to commend his scrutiny of her however because before he'd said anything, she'd collected up any bits of usable stone and walked past him. He thought that would be the end of it, that perhaps his sharp tongue had done it again, but she gestured that he follow.

He realized then that he'd been feeling guilty.

* * *

Wednesday 10:40pm

Her home was modest, with a few sparse belongings scattered amongst the space. The furniture looked too new for 2 years worth of living, but he remembered that she could hardly relax a day at home when she felt the success of the island's society resting on her little ranch. She made them both a drink- blueberry juice it looked like- and collapsed into the seat across from him. Suddenly he wasn't sure why he'd come. Just the sight of her seemed to calm any further need within him.

She swallowed nearly all of the beverage as if she depended on it to stay lucid, "Ahh!" She seemed to relax a little. She held her glass close and rested against the back of her chair before her brilliantly bright eyes opened and trained on his face again. "What brings you here so late?" She smiled at him. As if this morning had never happened. This served to displace him even more.

"..." He seemed only able to reply with silence. She watched him expectantly. "I look after myself." He managed finally.

Her expectant look remained unanswered, "I know."

He continued, "I live to work. Work is my living. There's no profit if I get stupid." He saw her try to hide something behind a stiff expression. "Last night I missed the ferry. That was pretty stupid. I can-"

"You won't miss it again." Her fingers around the glass were white. He was too startled to reply so she repeated herself, "you won't miss it again because I won't let you." The pregnant quiet filled his ears. She moved to the refrigerator and brought a familiar container to him. "You can be pretty stupid... but so can I. We can look out for each other." She tried another smile, this one attended by an unreserved blush.

He took the container hesitantly, struck again by her strength and her smallness. In the face of it his respect grew and his stubbornness quieted. He looked at the porridge in his hands and felt quite overwhelmed.

He tilted his hat in thanks, out of habit, but couldn't think of anything else to say. He wasn't convinced, but he couldn't find it in him to tell her to mind her own business anymore. So she shooed him out into the dark so that she could rest for another day- her hands trembled only a little- and he kept his silence.

* * *

_This was so hard to write. Even now it seems somewhat of a blank, which I guess sort of works. During the glitch Vaughn wouldn__'t start with his usual "hello", wouldn't accept gifts, and wouldn't leave the shop so I had to fit this into his actions somehow (although I cheated a little having him visit the farm AND accept a gift.) Even though right now he seems like a complete and utter toe-rag, I promise that he makes up for it._


	5. CHELSEA, JULIA, AND NATALIE

_CHELSEA, JULIA, NATALIE__ AND THE STOREROOM OF FATE_

_I__'d quite like Lanna to feature but something about her doesn't ring human to me. She's a very cute, cake-eating, fisherman-loving, singing extraterrestrial being from a planet far far away. Planet-Idol._

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* * *

_

Thursday 9:30am

Mirabelle woke him up at 5:00 for the early unloading of the mid-weekly shipment. He was surprised to hear of the amount of business she did with other nearby settlements, usually the ones contestants for the festivals hailed from, and there was plenty of work to be done. He was used to early mornings due to the amount of travel he did, but the physical labour sent him into a fit of hunger that he wasn't accustomed to. By six when all the work was done his stomach was a tight knot. Thankfully by then Julia had risen and there were appetizing smells coming from the kitchen.

He ate the meal egg and toast with the two of them before Mirabelle set him to cleaning the stock room. He had no complaints. Since he missed his ferry off the island he was grateful for the work. Not only was it useful to Mirabelle but it kept him from boredom and it wasn't any extra expense for room and board at the inn. He was also happy that it meant he was out of sight and could have some quiet time to himself. Although he'd prefer just to lose himself in the work an annoying image kept coming to mind.

Childlike red rubber boots, a red bandana, matching citrus shirts...

He bent the brim of his hat trying to knock his forehead against the shelf he'd just wiped down. She was like a damn warning beacon! Of course she'd stick in his thoughts like a sore thumb. He began relocating the burlap sacks of feed so that he could sweep the concrete free of year's worth of grit. When the shop had first opened Mirabelle's husband had been around to do the hard work and she looked after the customers and the books. Now that he had passed, as strong as she was in spirit, some of the extensive labour was left undone.

The crack of the hammer came down. Her cry as she hefted it. Stone after stone cleared from the field. Only her own strength to rely on. Dusty red boots.

He scraped the stiff brush against the cement. A fine time for gallantry: he'd already confused her as to where he stood. But he was confused himself.

* * *

Thursday 3:30pm

Afternoon tea was taken in the kitchen. Clearly a household run by women. Natalie joined them not long after Julia set out the cups and saucers, obviously expecting her guest. Vaughn hastily shoved what remained of his scone down his throat and tried to drink the dryness away before she had the chance to say anything.

He failed. "Still hanging around are we?" she smirked. The mouthful of milky tea seemed to go sour as he swallowed it and looked at her with all the dismay of a cat caught in the rain. Her smirk grew even wider. "Although I'm sure there's one girl who appreciates having you around!" Mirabelle could be heard to chuckle from the shop counter, and Julia gleefully called out her own name and hung off his elbow.

"Because it means I'm free from all the dirty little jobs until we lose the willing manpower!" She and Natalie shared a joyful smile, "riiiight!" they sang in unison. It annoyed him no end. He shook Julia free of his arm and made his way toward the stockroom again. He'd damn well clean it until he could eat off it if it meant getting away from these two. The bell at the entrance tinkled.

"Ah, and there's the third guest for our tea party now." Julia chimed.

Chelsea waved to Mirabelle walking towards him and the girls before she caught his eye and stopped. She smiled brilliantly, "Good Morning!"

"It's afternoon now." Was the best he could think to say? Julia and Natalie both gave him an odd look. Mentally he was kicking himself. Chelsea passed him and sat at the table, still smiling away.

"Wow Julia! This looks amazing!" Julia gave a little curtsy and sat down, Natalie followed suit. Vaughn thought Chelsea looked amazing... Although she was still clad in her warning beacon best, and the rain outside had dampened the hair around her cheeks, she appeared to glow. Stiffly he walked away to his regular corner and made himself comfortable. Standing.

Here he couldn't quite make out the girlish talk and laughter taking place at the table, however could still hear enough to know when the conversation immediately turned to boys. Life really was that predictable on the islands.

Between Julia gushing over Elliot's sensitivity and Natalie talking about last night's candlelit dinner with Pierre he wasn't sure who had worse taste, until it came to Chelsea's turn.

"Well, he's not much for conversation..." a hush fell over the girls. "But he's sweeter than he lets on. He's considerate and kind..." She sounded like she was reading out of a cheap novel; almost robotically. He thought she was probably as red as a tomato trying to sound so bold. "He's a little old-fashioned, but I like that. It's nice to be looked after... and he's..." she trailed off. If Mirabelle knew of his eavesdropping she didn't let on. His ears were hot. "He really..."

"Looks hot in denim!" Julia finished for her loudly, clearly aware that Vaughn hadn't left the other room. He took off into the store room as he should have in the beginning, hat covering his blazing face.

"Wait a sec! Who're we talking about here?" Natalie piped. Even Chelsea dissolved into their giggles.

* * *

Thursday 4:40pm

On the storeroom came a light knock before a blue eyed red-topped brunette peaked her head through to find him sat on a bag of chicken feed, chin in hand, brooding. He immediately shot upright, embarrassed to be caught inactive, until he recognized the blue and red combo to be Chelsea, still smiling that sunny smile. The rain heard tapping against the roof only made her face seem sunnier.

"Hello again. Not working too hard are you?" He glared at the question. "Only teasing Vaughn...lighten up a little! Or do you not like the rain?" She came all the way into the storeroom, uninvited but at ease. Taking in every bit of scenery with those big blue eyes of a curious child.

He needed to clear his throat before he spoke, "I don't particularly dislike the rain."

She clasped her hands behind her back and tilted sideways, "because?"

He watched her closely, "because life goes on whatever the weather..." He wondered where she was going with this.

She nodded, "I like rainy days because it means the crops take care of themselves and I get more free time." He guessed that was a good reason to enjoy the rain. Although he preferred being busy. "You're not hungry?"

He blinked. Put a hand to his stomach and shook his head, "no..."

She pouted, "Oh." She kicked a bit of loose hay on the concrete away. "Because I didn't make your porridge today I thought you'd miss it." Something pinged through his chest at the sweetness of the sentiment. She'd puffed a cheek out deliberately with her frown, still shuffling the bit of grass under her boot.

He couldn't help himself, "I miss it." Her face instantly lit up again. She took a minute to digest what he'd said before moving closer to his seat/bag. She hardly had to lean at all to press a soft chaste kiss to his cheek, near the corner of his mouth as he'd turned into it by surprise. She didn't back away and they both seemed to toy with the idea of a fuller kiss as they breathed each others breath and studied each others faces however her smile returned and she moved away before things got too heated. Her cheeks were flushed and he too felt his burn a little, although this took backstage to the hammering of his heart.

"Well, see you tomorrow." She left. And before the feeling of wanting to kick himself returned something seemed to sigh inside: _Tomorrow._

_

* * *

_

_We can all see it Vaughn. You are head over heels for that little missus. Now sort yourself out and let her know. I__'m enjoying this almost as much as Julia is 3 _

_Well I was hardly going to script him with the exact same line each time was I?_


	6. VAUGHN vs ELLIOT ONE NIGHT ONLY

_VAUGHN vs ELLIOT ONE NIGHT ONLY_

Friday 10:10am

Vaughn had a dream about Chelsea cracking his head on a rock like a nut and cooking with what she found there: oddly enough scrambled eggs. He wasn't one to remember his dreams often but this one put him in a deservedly cranky mood from the get go.

The day started similarly to the last, early awakening, shipping to the other islands, and breakfast before storeroom rearranging and cleaning for the next lot. Only this morning they were joined by another guest. Elliot had brought Julia's groceries and cooking supplies in for her since the last time she had a shipment he'd caught her struggling with the bags. In thanks Julia had made extra breakfast and decided that he stay for it. Sweet and savoury pancakes were on the menu.

Elliot made small talk with Mirabelle about business while Julia poured cup after cup of tea (he went pale at the mention of milk) and stacked his plate with food. Vaughn tried to keep himself out of the atmosphere and conversation and eat as quickly as possible. He decided to forgo the knife and to cut his food apart with the edge of his fork.

"It's a shame that Chelsea isn't here." Julia sighed and rested a hand on her cheek. "She loves pancakes." Vaughn wanted to say that she loved just about anything; also it wasn't as if she was dead. He was sure she'd be at the door in a flash if she knew there was food on offer.

Julia must have read his mind. She leaned near Elliot and whispered something in his ear which started a chain reaction: Elliot went pink, Mirabelle shook her head, and Julia smiled surreptitiously. Vaughn chose again to ignore it and concentrate on his food but felt a twitch begin in his left eyebrow.

"V-vaughn." Elliot started his forkful of pancake mid-way between plate and mouth. "You should invite her to join us." He gulped down on the portion like it was some kind of reward for his bravery.

There was definitely a twitch. Julia didn't realize just how much she was throwing her Elliot into the bullring this morning. He wiped his mouth with his napkin."Thanks for your concern Elliot, but Chelsea can take care of herself." He didn't see the point in dragging the poor kid into it.

"But she's been really lost this week! I'm sure she'd be really happy if you did!" Elliot made a near-hiccup noise and busily drank from his teacup feeling he'd said too much. Even Julia looked taken aback. Vaughn ground his teeth, wishing the boy had kept out of it. Or that he hadn't had the dream. Or that he'd had a break from this constant nattering once this week. Julia looked about to speak but he cut in sharply.

"Thank you. Elliot." He ground the name out, making the boy shrink back. "Your concern for your friends is admirable but if all the people on this island have as little sense as you, I'd be happy to leave on Monday and never return. Try to keep you nose out of others business and personal affairs and you'll fair a lot better in the real world."

He knew it was undeserved. He knew that he was taking his irritation out on Elliot, perhaps one of the only males on the island that may have once looked up to him. But learning that outside of the shop Chelsea wasn't up to her usual standard from another bachelor didn't help. The uncontrollable jealousy added to his ire. Elliot's eyes were glazed with incredulity. Julia held his shoulders looking like she was about to cry or give Vaughn a tongue-lashing to rival his own. Mirabelle called his name and was stood with a face like thunder.

His boots sounded louder than ever as he left the room.

* * *

Friday 4:50pm

He'd spent most of the afternoon behind the building. The double doors opening into the storeroom stayed firmly shut. No one had come looking for him since his little outburst and return to work. Not that he expected them too. The air was crisp and the sky was cloudy. The waves lashed against the banks of the island not far from where he sat making visible caps of white cycle up and down soberly.

He instantly regretted opposing Elliot. The kid took enough crap from his sister and grandfather, and worked hard enough to have earned Vaughn's respect. Some part of him must have thought so. Now he was probably quite piteously finishing for the day wondering what he'd done wrong. He knew that Mirabelle and Julia were upset with him as well. He sat on an immovable boulder resting his elbows on either thigh, and facing the frozen earth.

"Hey." He said to the waves.

"Hey." Chelsea answered. He didn't look up. Didn't see her there, just knew she would be. Trusted that she would. "Idiot." He nodded. Julia and Mirabelle would have filled her in on everything. "Why don't you apologize?"

"Old man Taro might lynch me." She didn't laugh. Maybe she agreed that it might be a possibility.

"Wait here." Her footfalls trailed off. He knew exactly where she'd gone and felt like a child to need it. Still, Julia and Mirabelle would understand and eventually forgive him; Elliot didn't have the pleasure of knowing his delicate innermost workings. He may be stubborn but he knew when to bite the bullet and admit he was wrong. She had taught him that.

Chelsea returned with Elliot in tow look more nervous then ever. In the falling night between the back of a poorly-lit building and the ocean with a man who had just this morning lashed out at him unexpectedly and only a slight girl to bear witness, Vaughn figured the nervousness was justified.

He thrust his half-gloved hand forward to Elliot who to his merit did not flinch. Chelsea beamed at the redhead, and he took this as a sign that everything was alright. He accepted the hand and they shook. Vaughn wasn't sure if anything else needed said but mercifully Elliot grinned as well and thanked him. Vaughn liked him even more. When Elliot scampered back in the direction of his house he vowed to take him to the diner and buy him a sangria.

She turned also turned to go, but he grabbed her elbow. Amethyst met electric blue despite the darkness.

"You. You are okay aren't you?"

She laughed, "Of course! Why wouldn't I be?" She was blatantly lying, why couldn't he see it before? "I'd be better if you stopped picking fights with all the villagers, but c'est la vie. We are who we are." His grip tightened and she mewed.

"You're lying."

"I'm not."

"You are!" he raised his voice, unsettled that she'd lie again after he saw through it.

"I'm not!" She shook her arm free. Her eyes glistened. "Of course I'm fine! Of course I don't mind if you need time to sort your feelings out! Or if you reject me right after the festival! Or if you won't even leave Mirabelle's to come looking for me..." The last one even though it was a stretch set her tears spilling. "Of course I don't mind..." her voice had become high-pitched and squeaky. She hiccuped, "because I'll wait as long as I need to..." Her head drooped and her hair covered her eyes, although she could still be heard to sob quietly.

He was stunned to have this resolution come out. He wasn't altogether convinced it wouldn't be about him but to understand completely why she'd been putting on airs during her visits shook him hard. She continued to sob even as he carefully put an arm around her and pulled her tiny frame to his chest. She clutched at his vest as her cries became whimpers and then eventually nothing but little gasps of breath.

* * *

_It's been a real hoot making the plot move with the limited characters that enter Mirabelle's. Also I realized that earlier I fed Vaughn Pumpkin Soup...which he hates._


	7. THE LONELIEST MAN IN THE WORLD

_THE LONELIEST MAN EVER_

**"****_And that bloke who was in the rocket, right, he was the loneliest man ever...in the world."_****Karl Pilkington**

**

* * *

**

Saturday 9:00am

It was his day off. More to the point it was Mirabelle's day off and since the outburst yesterday she hadn't bothered to assign him anymore work. After he had seen Chelsea home last night he returned inside the shop and found his dinner waiting still warm under a kitchen towel. Julia was out for a walk and Mirabelle appeared to have turned in early. He had sat down with a sigh and committed himself to an evening of solitude; something so ordinary in his city apartment, yet something so uncomfortable here on the islands.

Now, on Saturday, he hoped to make amends with her erstwhile den mother. But he woke up late. When he finally managed to tame his hair down into his hat he came across both Mirabelle and Felicia sitting at the table taking their midmorning tea. To his surprise they both gave him a welcoming smile and gestured he sit with them. He was like a deer in the headlights that could see the impending doom on the dashboard read one thing: Intervention. He paled but sat.

Felicia began, her joyful fox-like eyes the same as ever, "Don't worry so much, Vaughn." She reached to kindly pat the back of his hand that rested on the table. "Mirabelle's told me everything."

That didn't make him worry any less considering this was the mother of the kid he'd bullied last night. For all he knew she was trying to put him off-guard to commence some assault on a pressure point that would kill him instantly: an art passed down for generations and known only by long-time islanders. Nonetheless he listened.

"If you're so concerned for the little lass why don't you buy a feather?" Mirabelle nodded her agreement. Vaughn was aghast. Just what did these biddies think was going on? His hands clenched and unclenched on the table. Mirabelle took this as a sign to pour him tea. Felicia tittered.

"Feather!" he managed to spit out finally. They nodded earnestly, seeming to creep in and fill his vision more and more from all sides. His breath quickened. His face flushed. "Marry-"They nodded again more excited this time. He shut down. There was a vacant stare as he took the first sip of his tea with an amazingly sure hand. The ladies watched him a moment longer hoping for further reaction and then fell back into their seats disappointed.

Felicia pressed her palm to her cheek and turned to Mirabelle, "That's too bad. Poor girl."

Mirabelle bobbed, sipped from her cup, "Chelsea is so patient."

Vaughn couldn't fathom why he was so cursed to keep living in these conditions.

* * *

Saturday 2:00pm

Mirabelle and Felicia had wandered off. Julia had still not reappeared. The shop was empty and locked with only a stray cowboy perched in the corner that suited him best. There was no knock at the door from a cute young farmhand who lived north of the village, not for hours, and he wad beginning to suspect that it would remain that way for the rest of the day.

He could hear the clock tick. He could hear his own breathing. He was a little hungry.

Instead of contemplating on the sack of feed beside him and whether it would be wise or not to eat from it like a dog he turned his brain back to the conversation this morning: Was that really what Chelsea wanted? Marriage? Even his mental voice seemed to stutter on the word.

It wasn't like he considered himself a man fearful of commitment. Quite the opposite in fact: he'd always looked forward to being the pillar of strength in a household. Caring husband, proud father, and bread-winner. He just hadn't had the chance to add Chelsea to that equation. It was only a week ago that he'd worked up the gall to tell her of his respect. Only days ago that he had first kissed her, and she was the first girl he'd ever given a real far away that all seemed.

Now she claimed his thoughts. So many times in the last few days he'd come to realize he was thinking about her. During mealtimes, doing menial tasks, while brushing his teeth; there were no specific triggers. Presently it was her kiss. His mind had taken him there before he even had the chance to bang his head against the wall to clear it.

Her infinitely soft lips and sweet breath. The way her breast lifted and fell when she got close. Her trembling eyelashes and slight gasp as she was taken by his tongue.

Vaughn pulled his Stetson down hard and kicked the feed, his pointed toe making little to no dent in the density of it. He wanted her here more than ever. While they could be alone. While he could show her exactly how he was feeling and clear her of any doubts.

* * *

_A little frustration for you all, I know you love it._


	8. ONE NORMAL DAY

ONE NORMAL DAY

Sunday 8:00am

She couldn't quite pinpoint the reason for her anticipation. There was a festival tomorrow, sure. She was excited about that. But it wasn't a competition or anything. Just a get-together: to eat noodles. She liked noodles, but they weren't her favourite. She wasn't sure she even had a favourite...

So then, a regular winter's Sunday; what was there to be anxious for? As she pondered over the strange tension rather than going to the stables and chicken coop as she usually did her feet had taken her into town and straight up to the unimposing door of Mirabelle's shop. The anxiety rose and gave her a sense of déjà-vu. _Oh_. That was why. She opened the door with the dim ringing of bells to Vaughn contemplating the floorboards as if his life depended on it.

Her heart fumbled when his one exposed eye caught her in her tracks.

She'd spent much of yesterday keeping busy to try and forget her moment of weakness on Friday. After she'd finished washing his vest in her tears, He'd put her to bed. Her eyes were puffy, her sinuses felt closed up and it hurt to speak. She was embarrassed to be so far a throw from the characterization of the damsel in distress that was propagated in the stories. Chelsea was pretty sure _she_ never had to give her nose a big honking blow before drifting to sleep angelically. Vaughn looked a little shocked too but hid the expression quickly. He didn't say much, didn't by any means apologize, but his actions made up for his lack of words. His bare fingers were warm and gentle against her temple where they stroked her hair before pulling away in the darkness with only the tiniest clacking of his spurs to signal his departure. She wanted him to stay a little longer but imagined that he felt the same way about a lady having a man in her house late at night as a lady walking home alone late at night. It was improper, and dangerous. She was fairly certain she wasn't going to be putting on the moves while her nose felt it had watermelons stuffed up inside it and likewise because of this appearance that he was no threat there either, but she respected his morals.

So while her errant heart was trying to decide which face she ought to show him today he surprised her with something she hadn't expected.

He tipped his hat to her, looking only slightly bashful, smiled and said in his twang that sounded more alluring each time she heard it, "Morning Chelsea."

* * *

Sunday 9:00am

Vaughn took charge the moment that she stammered back her hellos. Mirabelle and Julia grinned knowingly to each other the whole time, but he didn't seem to take any notice and Chelsea was preoccupied by his hand taking hers and guiding her back out the door.

The sunshine on the white frost bounced and hit her vision, causing tears to spring up in her eyes. Vaughn hurried on regardless, but she didn't have the luxury of a hat. She pouted and rubbed at the tears. He led her down to the water and she realized that the moments of his freedom to roam the island were few and far between since their first exchange of words about the ferry. She checked to see him breath in deeply, the ocean air mussing his silvery locks across his brow. He turned back to her with that same peaceful smile. He didn't seem quite at ease with it yet. There was a little warmth in his cheeks to suggest this or something else she couldn't be sure, but as she studied him the expression fell and his hands shot up to cup her face.

"What's wrong?" His thumb caught a tear. He sounded apprehensive. She was startled, entranced, and embarrassed within the space of a few seconds; her words slipped around on her tongue and came out as gibberish as he looked on wondering.

"The snow!" She managed finally, blushing radiantly. He repeated her with a big question mark, one eyebrow curving handsomely. "In my eyes!" she squeaked.

Vaughn let out a sigh and released her face looking put-upon, "that's all?" She laughed nervously with a shrug. He exhaled noisily again. His body turned towards her and he took her shoulders in hand, lining them up. "Chelsea, I don't..." He paused, "I don't like seeing you cry." He wasn't finished with just that, but her heart was speeding up. "Or lie. Or not at all." He let this hang. His hands grasped her shoulders not uncomfortably, but as if he needed to keep her held there. Her smaller hand crept up to rest atop his.

Their last couple of meetings had dissolved any expectations she may have had for a second heartfelt confession once he'd come around to her thinking, even if she'd always kept hope for more of his straightforward words; except now that they were here she didn't seem to have a reply to measure up. Her heart was singing and she felt lightheaded but she didn't want to scare him off by making it so obvious. So she laughed again, but the sound was lighter this time. "That makes sense. I don't think I'd like to see those things either." He seemed discomfited by the suggestion and his eyes wandered briefly, but even that seemed adorable to her in the moment. She loved his seriousness. Vaughn had pulled another long intake of breath, finally deciding to say something more, but there was an altogether too-timely interruption: today coming from the unlikely source of Will and Lily.

"Oh excuse us; we didn't realize that you were having a private moment." Lily's deeply accented voice cut through the sea breeze. They were walking together but not hand-in-hand.

Will was simpering pleasantly; encouragingly at the new couple, "Lovely to see you both. Chelsea you are simply glowing with beauty." There was a small bow, a little flamboyant but prince-like, before he turned to Vaughn. "Vaughn, it's a pleasure to have you with us, but what brings you to the island on a Sunday?" Chelsea caught the flash of dislike in Vaughn's glance toward Will. Whether for the interruption or for the simple clash of character she wasn't sure, but she cut in before anything else could be said.

"Hi Will. Lily." She smiled in turn to each of them, "you're enjoying a morning walk too? Vaughn's just taking a little holiday this week." The cowboy in question had leaned most of his weight to one leg, crossed his arms and set his gaze over the ocean disinterestedly, apparently taking no part in this conversation. "But I'll have to say goodbye again on Tuesday so I'm not willing to share him right now." She looped her elbow through his arms until they were linked. He stuttered in surprise and she knew he'd have the familiar warmth to his face whenever she shocked him with her straightforwardness. "I might even put him to work just to keep him for myself!"

Will and Lily both blinked in sync like they couldn't quite understand that type of affection, but soon their matching smiles returned and they nodded their goodbyes. They carried on down the beach both chattering about life and love and riches; clearly a lot they could and couldn't agree on but nonetheless found intriguing in each other.

Chelsea beamed while Vaughn berated her with a grumble equivalent to his opinions on public affection. She took this cue to remind him of his first confession on a similarly public beach and his weighted silence fell on deaf ears.

* * *

Sunday 10:50am

She pulled him, only slightly unwilling, back with her to the ranch. He actually laughed a little as she listed the different –and often unfounded- reasons that he should come along. His hand squeezed hers in consent. She needed to get her animals sorted for the day but since their relationship had taken a turn towards normalcy she wasn't willing to let him go just yet. With Vaughn, she knew she had to remain proactive.

The clouds were moving quickly, sunlight came and went, and now and again a snowflake drifted down towards the rocky barren field. She kept Vaughn in tow towards the barn although he was slow to take in the all the details. He hadn't been to her home many times. She thought how much she'd like to show him it in full bloom mid-spring when the breeze was still cool and refreshing between her perfectly aligned crops; the colours of the harvest luscious and promising. In the winter she made small profit shipping from the mines and winter catches from the ocean, but nothing was as satisfying nor filled her with as much pride as her animals and her crops.

In the barn she kept two heifers and two ewes each of different breeds. The creamy white ewe came to her when it heard the door. Chelsea released Vaughn's hand and stroked its head where the wool had begun to grow back thick and soft.

"Did you bring me here to impress me?" Vaughn spoke from the doorway.

Chelsea grinned, "No, but did it work?" The ewe butted against her hand.

Vaughn gave a slanted smile back, "Fine critters." She stifled a giggle at his vocabulary and the way it curled around his tongue. He had already moved away from her and the white ewe to inspect her heifer Moomin: it was the first one she'd owned and raised from a calf.

His gloved hand ran along the animal's spine up to her ears and gently patted there, never causing any distress. Chelsea watched with curiosity as he seemed to take in everything about the cow, weighing up its health and quality with ease. Though by now the precious minutes were ticking away, she was absorbed in watching Vaughn in his element. Every slight movement of his body, the way he viewed the animals calculatingly, showed his apt perception of the creature's comfort and it seemed effortless. His steady tallness, his dark clothing, his deliberate hands, and his ease with her animals were something she'd like to see everyday.

He caught her staring and laughed shortly. His hand extended for her brush. She rushed to him, careful not to startle her cattle and dropped the brush into his hands. She filled their feeders with a smile that wouldn't quit, he groomed noiselessly and they were rewarded with happy sounds from all four animals in turn.

* * *

Sunday 6:00pm

Time was greedy and in its hunger it devoured the daylight. Chelsea and Vaughn were settled on the dock where they shared the last starless night's festival contentedly. His arms circled around her languorously, relieving any regret of the memory.

With Vaughn's help the sparse amount of farm work she had to do was finished in no time, and they spent the afternoon walking and talking, then warming themselves in her home with a simple meal as her ingredients were few and her skills even fewer.

"_Chop this onion." She held it out to him._

"_Why. You're making egg on rice." _

"_It's creative license! Haven't you ever played around with your recipes?"_

"_I don't like onions."_

"_..." he was unsurprisingly picky._

"_Eggplant?" _

"_You're ruining a perfectly good dish."_

"_So, you'd rather just watch me cook by the book than make yourself useful?" _

_He nodded, lacing his fingers in front on him on the table where he sat, "please." She didn't miss his smirk. She was careful not to grind the rice as she washed it. Her cheeks were aflame through the entire process._

On the dock, the breeze off the ocean was once again nonexistent, and the snow had stopped except for a few trace flakes dropping now and again. Winter covered the lively islands in a blanket of quiet. The stars sparkled clearly through the gaps in the cloud cover. Chelsea was blissfully unaware of most of these things, simply glad of Vaughn's warmth against her back and the steady song of his heartbeat.

His fingers tugged at the knot in her bandana, "Don't you ever take this off?"

She laughed and flicked the brim of his hat, "You're one to talk, cowboy. It keeps my hair tidy. Sometimes I'll even wear it to bed." He was suddenly tense so she elbowed him gently. "Back to normal next week huh?"

He snorted derisively, "Is it ever normal?"

"You missing the city? I bet you're a completely different person out there." She cleared her throat; that came out strangely. The feeling she meant to express was how much she liked how he seemed to relax once he was here. During their first initial meetings, he responded to her tersely with his shoulders bunched and his brow furrowed. She'd find him drifting on Sprout Island with his spurs clacking loudly enough to send a little nervous jolt through Sabrina nearby each time they did. He looked so eager to be gone. But over time the line of his body became peaceful. His drifting became surer, and his gait balanced. Little pieces of himself were given freely in their daily conversation.

"It's true." He answered and she looked back at him wonderingly. "In the city I'm not very friendly." He met her gaze with hard amethyst seriousness, and laughter consumed her until her sides were in agony and he begged her to stop.

* * *

Sunday 9:00pm

He would not agree to let her walk him home, so instead they stood in her doorway to say their goodbyes. Put in such formality she was suddenly nervous about how to act.

Vaughn took little time, stepped back once and tipped his hat, "Goodnight." He turned to leave but she caught the back of his vest and found her voice.

"Come to the festival tomorrow. It's New Years."

"It's noodles."

"I'll make sure yours doesn't have any onions."

At this he well and truly smiled. There was another tip of his hat and he was gone. Silver hair the only thing to trace him as he disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

_So. This took me a while. I started to get fed up with my style, and confused with the direction of the non-existent plot. If you are still reading this: thanks for sticking with it. If you aren't... SAD FACE._

_surprisingly though...longest chapter yet?_

_I really wasn't sure where to go with this day. I think maybe it happened to soon. I really wanted to torture Vaughn while he was at Mirabelle's, but there was such a do-nothing day between the weekend and the festival that this just happened. I hope it works. I hope everyone at least enjoyed the fluffiness. The end is nearing and they are basically made up, so another chapter or two and the prologue and we'll be wrapping this up._

_Please review with your thoughts! I've driven myself crazy with my own._


	9. NEW YEARS WISH

NEW YEARS WISH

_Are Vaughn and Julia actually cousins? Or is this specific to IoH? Vaughn saying "I have no family" in the obvious presence of Mirabelle and Julia seems unnaturally harsh..._

_

* * *

_

Monday 6:00pm

Vaughn arrived on Meadow Island by boat along with all the other villagers. The sleepy islanders if anything were timely. Twenty minutes ago Felicia arrived with her hair freshly plaited and a new coloured shawl around her shoulders, and she and Mirabelle hustled him out of the house. Mirabelle herself hadn't made too much an effort, just changed into a fresh dress that was decidedly plum and made her look even more jolly than usual. Vaughn himself didn't realize noodles were such a big deal. And since he'd been present on the islands for much longer than anticipated he was getting the best out of his own regular attire: although thankfully his trust pseudo-mother had washed, dried, and left it lovingly folded on the guest bed after his bath one evening.

On their way out Julia gave him a secretive look from around the door of her bedroom. A lesser man might have been struck with lovesickness the instant those doe-like eyes set upon him, Vaughn understood it to mean that she other plans for the evening, and he ought to enjoy it the same. His reluctance faltered a little.

On the island Chen had set up a thin long table with china dishes matched precisely all the way to the end. The noodles themselves were kept in a thermal bag tucked safely away under the silken table cloth that hung delicately; showing elaborate embroidery of what Vaughn assumed was zodiac. The shopkeeper certainly had an eye for finery. Chen's son Charlie had the other resident child Eliza to one side, explaining the importance of the embroidery. She seemed less interested in the history and more in the fact that it was pretty and therefore worthy, but listed to the boy nonetheless. Vaughn wondered briefly what happened to his mother; the father and son pair were so alike it was hard to imagine a third person in their family.

Of the other attendees, he took note: no Elliot. Mirabelle and Felicia of course. The girls Natalie, Lily, and Sabrina were present. The former two dressed as they always did and were severe in comparison: one in drab colours and apron, the other an expensive cheongsam, and the later stood with her father; the ribbon in her hair swapped for a lacquered comb that held it together gracefully in a bun. Behind her wide glasses her eyelashes fluttered and she smiled at him warmly, a faint colour rising in her cheeks. Taro was wandering. His cane digging perfect pin-holes in the snow as he went, his eyebrows twitching and his nose sniffing, trying to decipher tomorrow's weather; a skill he was admittedly very proficient in.

On one side of him Denny had come to rest, viewing the spread table with enthusiasm, and on the other the ambiguous Shea had appeared looking unsure of why or what he was exactly here for. Vaughn studied the boy, nearly a foot shorter than he was but still sinewy and strong thanks to his way of life, and raised an eyebrow when Shea met his gaze.

The boy's hair seemed to droop with his uneasiness, "Chelsea said come. Food. No need for hunt tonight." Vaughn remembered this was only the third or fourth time he'd actually spoken to the island native and yet he answered his look without bias or a touch of reservation. It surprised him, but perhaps Chelsea had more than a little to do with it.

Without much hesitation, he patted the boy on the shoulder, "She'll be here soon. Then we eat." Shea's eyes were wide as he watched Vaughn, and he grew more uncomfortable with each second that seemed to tick by. He thought maybe he'd read him completely wrong and the physical contact was about to get him gutted until Shea finally beamed at him with his eyes squeezed shut and all his teeth showing. Vaughn tried to return the smile, although his fingers pulled his hat down and a little nervous chuckle bubbled up in his throat. Denny suddenly clapped him on the back and was pointing; Shea had begun to babble about fish, possibly because of the not unpleasant but always present smell of Denny.

Above the noise of the crowd and across the point of Denny's finger, Vaughn's eyes caught upon Chelsea, who was lifting herself out of Kirk's boat carefully. Her bandana was missing and her hair was twisted up against her neck and held with hair pins, only a small amount of it escaping to stick out at one side in an attractive tuft. Her warning beacon clothes were also absent and her small frame was confined neatly in a traditional green yukata. Shea yelped happily and ran to her side, already talking excitedly about the festival. Denny let out an amicable laugh and patted his back again. Vaughn's hands were on the brim of his hat, which he didn't realize he'd taken off his head and was instead holding in front of his chest as he watched her. She took tiny steps towards him, restricted by the formal clothing, but smiling as Shea walked and talked and flicking her eyes in his direction. He dropped the Stetson back onto his head when she approached.

"Glad you could make it." Her head tilted sweetly with her smile; rosy cheeks from the cold or his eyes he left undecided.

He cleared his throat before he answered, "I'm glad I came." Denny, still within earshot, whooped.

* * *

Monday 9:00pm

Chen was delighted to serve nearly everyone seconds. The heat of the lanterns, the warmth of the noodles in their bellies, and some sweet sake that Taro had proudly supplied kept them cosy and content in their chilly surroundings as the evening fell. Although there was little a new year's festival in the city might provide, the islanders made up for the lack of entertainment with plenteous conversation.

Taro had gotten out a set of carved wooden dice, and was showing the girls an old game he used to play with his father. Thin and ominous Regis was allowing for some curiosity to show, leaning over his daughter and providing the suggestion that they 'make it more interesting.' It was like a spark was lit under Taro's heavy eyebrows; He reached a craggy hand around Natalie to grip her shoulder and agreed to take them on. Sabrina heaved a sigh.

Vaughn turned away from the nearby scene back to Chelsea, Denny, and Shea who were all currently locked in a heated who-can-slurp-the-noodle-the-fastest contest. The finale was punctuated by a noisy smack, as the end of each noodle licked against the players face before being sucked up and finally chewed. Shea practically fell over laughing after they finished and he noticed a bit of broth on the tip of Chelsea's nose. Vaughn saw it too and shook his head with a smile mostly hidden by his hat.

She quickly wiped it away with her sleeve, "So who won?"

"You all looked pretty stupid." He smirked.

"Aw that's harsh! Come on, you're our judge!" Denny lifted another noodle to his lips as he continued to eat.

"...Then, Shea. He looks hungry enough to eat another helping."

The boy in question blinked hard. "Shea wins? What does Shea win?"

Opportunistic Denny spoke over a mouthful of noodle, "a kiss from Chelsea." He grinned when Vaughn shot him a scowl. Shea looked excited and Chelsea was jumpy.

"A-Another bowl of noodles!" She lifted her bowl and mimicked the sound of a cheering crowd. Shea's hair became droopy again.

Vaughn sighed and stood, "I'll get it."

"I'll come with you!" Chelsea caught his elbow and linked their arms. The large sleeve of her yukata pulled back as she did and revealed her skin milky in the moonlight; the tan faded and gone until the next summer season. Such a small thing, and yet he felt the heat rise and his heart stutter. He walked slowly so that she could keep pace with her uneven and short steps.

"Who knew." He smiled.

"What?"

"Who knew you had such appropriate attire."

"I'm also from the city you know. There are plenty of festivals there." She seemed proud of the fact.

"Sure. I just thought the colours would have been a little more..."

"How about you stop before you get in trouble and instead just compliment me." Those bright blue eyes locked on him sideways, her chin lifted a little into the air in an attempt to look haughty.

"You look nice."

"Nice? Is that the best you can do?" Her eyebrows curved delicately.

He shrugged. Paused for a second. "Sensational." She was as pretty as a lantern the way her face lit up red and pink.

"That's cheesy..."

"You asked." She rested her head against his shoulder as they walked. Mirabelle and Felicia tried to be inconspicuous as they watched them pass and Felicia even shot him a very serious-faced thumbs-up.

They reached the table and Chen refilled their cups with drink, "Are you staying for the countdown? It may be a little cold by then." He nodded to Chelsea, who although looked ravishing would be the first to feel the chill.

"We're staying!" Her free hand made a fist that rested against her hip. With her other arm still linked in his and her feet placed as far apart as the yukata allowed, she looked victorious.

Taro hiccupped behind her, his fingers wrapping around the neck of the sake bottle."Another swig 'a this'll keep you warm!" Chelsea squeaked as he swayed and Chen caught his elbow and helped to right him.

"Friend, perhaps you've had one too many swigs!" They both laughed heartily like old chums. Taro began an uneven tune, and before long Chen had joined in surprisingly managing to harmonize quite well.

Vaughn couldn't hide his expression somewhere in between a grin and a grimace. He'd been to festivals before, but this one really took the cake. Everywhere he looked were smiles, friends toasting, and amusement to behold. There was something altogether charming about it. These people really did regard each other as family in the small community. Even if this tiny girl on his arm managed to bring the islands back into prosperity, the bonds they shared would remain strong as new residents came to join them. He looked down at Chelsea who didn't seem to share his awe; she was only laughing and clapping in time with the men's song.

She said so herself: she also came from the city. Not more than 2 years ago. And yet these people had already welcomed her amongst them with open arms. She'd found belonging like he never had. He was happy and a little envious. Both of her place in their hearts, and of the limitless time the residents could spend with her. After this week he'd be back to his regular schedule. He was surprised to find he felt some disappointment.

He was broken out of his reverie with a tug at his elbow. Chelsea was trying to pull him toward the beach, were the lanterns were fewer, the company less, and unfortunately the breeze sharper. Charlie and Eliza met them before they got very far and thrust sparklers into their hands. At the water's edge, she released his arm and put both of her hands to use holding the bottom of her outfit up should a sudden wave lap at their feet.

Her eyes reflected the water, "Are you having fun?"

He didn't see the point in lying, "I'm a bit of an outsider, but yeah. It's fun."

She shook her head vigorously; releasing yet more strands of her carefully bound hair, "No you're not."

"I am having fun." He deadpanned.

"No, I mean, you're not an outsider."

"Hm."

"Shea likes you."

"Clearly manipulation on your part." His lips slanted into a smirk.

"It isn't!" her hands fisted in front of her before she remembered her yukata and quickly picked it back up. "Shea functions on instinct."

"His instincts seem to be that he's got a thing for you." He checked that there was no jealousy in this comment, only statement of truth. He understood why Chelsea would appeal to Shea, and didn't feel threatened by it.

She lowered her eyes, "Well maybe a little, but its not like any of the other girls really approach him." He made another 'hm' sound deep in his throat, and used a hand to lift her chin.

"He's a good kid. And I'm having fun." The islander's further inland had begun to count.

"Have you made a wish?" She asked, eyes once again sparkling.

"You wish on New Year's?" _Ten. Nine. Eight._

"Well, pray. Wish. It's the same thing." _Six. Five. _

"What should I wish for?" _Three. Two._

"I can't tell you that." She smiled secretively. The Islanders were cheering, congratulating, and singing. He bent to put his lips to hers and the world was full of lanterns and stars and cold winter kisses he would never forget.

* * *

_I love all of these characters. Rule exception for Eliza. she is not actually an attendee but Charlie needed a friend._

_edit: I realized belatedly that yukata are very much NOT APPROPRIATE for a winter festival... however rather than a complete edit to hastily scrub over this incredibly "foreigner" mistake I will just apologize. I did not do the research, only knew that I wanted to put across a more japanese new years festival feel to the event. But what is correct during the winter? I will be taking a very long wiki-walk to find out._


	10. THIS IS OUR EPILOGUE

_THIS IS OUR EPILOGUE_

Vaughn did the gentlemanly thing and returned to her home after the festivities, but not before she managed to twist his arm into agreeing to a cup of coffee. Her clock was showing clearly the hours that marked the start of spring, and he wondered if she'd have trouble getting up in the morning, especially with the addition of caffeine into her system now.

He further realized what a careless thing he'd done in agreeing when she turned her back to him, kicking off her traditional sandals while stepping further into the house, and pulling the sticks from her hair in one unhurried movement. Her locks tumbled down her back loosely as she shook them free, seeming to sigh with the release. His insides became tightly coiled.

She walked into the kitchen without noticing his reaction and began to make the coffee. She hummed quietly to herself, completely at ease in his presence. He had to shake himself, looking instead to the walls for photographs; but there were none. Then at the floor for dust: but it was kept discretely clean. And finally he put himself at the table and watched his fingers lace in front of him. She was suddenly behind him, lightly holding her hands over his eyes playfully. Apparently he was lost further in his own thoughts than he realized.

"I'm just going to change, okay? This isn't really comfortable, and I'd hate to mess it up." Her hands fell away and before he knew what he was doing he had grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her back toward him. A little too forcibly however, as she collided with his chest and surprised them both, the chair he'd been sitting on clattered against the table legs and they were falling together. The mess of furniture clipped the back of Vaughn's head as they went, resulting in a sharp curse from him and a yelp from her before they dropped into an unforgiving heap on the floor.

"Are you alright?" She fretted; she was combing his hair searching for a lump. He was more or less sat, supported by his elbows with a grip on her waist. She was kneeling in between his legs, leaning lightly on his torso as she checked his injuries. He hardly felt the throb of pain in his skull. She was so close he could feel the heat of her breath. The collar of her dress had loosened during their fall and the strap of her undergarment was visible on her shoulder. She seemed to become gradually more aware of him as well; her fingers had ceased their insistent probing, their eyes caught, and her cheeks flushed. There was a brief flash of panic before her expression became steely and her eyelids drooped shut. Her lips pursed.

He gawked at her until the situation became far too ridiculous for him to maintain. What should have come out sensitively as a low chuckle actually burst out in a deep belly laugh. Chelsea immediately snapped out of the spell and her cheeks were brighter than ever. She looked horrified and his laughing was making the place where he smacked his head throb again, but he had trouble stopping. It was like the dam of his sanity had broken.

Eventually he had to breathe, "Sorry..." She crossed her arms, still in his lap. "You just...looked like you'd signed your life away."

"-I didn't!" if her cheeks could get any hotter they most certainly did. She was fumbling for words. "I was...prepared!"

"Chelsea." He was firm. "I'm not that kind of man." He ran a hand through her hair near her ear and she leaned into his touch. "...as tempting as you are right now." He tacked on for good measure. No point in saving his pride just to hurt her feelings.

"Then..?"

"Just the coffee." He wouldn't allow himself to think it was a mistake. Their time together might be limited but he treasured her. She had a look that was a mixture of disappointment and relief, but ultimately she smiled.

"I should tell you: my coffee isn't very good."

He was straightening and replacing his hat as he sighed. "Doesn't matter. Just make it strong."

* * *

"I have a great idea." The breaking sunshine was bouncing off Chelsea's smiling face. "You should stay." Even though she knew the answer before it came, she still stood in front of him like she'd just discovered oil; proud and successful.

His voice was husky, "You know I can't."

She winked, "Yeah, but if I didn't say anything you'd get home and sulk, right?"

"I'm not sure we understand each other." A hand scratched at his freshly shaven cheek happy with his retort; it wouldn't do to wordlessly accept her claim.

She carried on smiling, "Ooohh I see. Well I guess I'll see you next week, maybe. If I get around to it, lots of other boys on the island that appreciate my affections." Her smile was slowly becoming more wicked as she used a hand like a visor over her eyes and made a show of scanning the beach.

"..." there was the silent conformity she had been waiting for.

She relaxed her teasing and became serious. "But why do you have to leave before tomorrow? I could make a cake."

He imagined her cake would be messy and delicious. He'd like to try it in the crisp early-spring breeze sat on her porch. They'd eat it with their hands. "I'm not much for parties." He answered simply.

"But it seems so lonely." He could see what hear the true meaning under that sentence which was _I'll be lonely _and in observing it he brushed a knuckle across her cheek.

"This is the least lonely birthday yet." She blushed and held his hand against her face like a schoolgirl might when approached by her secret love. He eyes were swimming.

"Stay next year."

He wanted to keep her at this distance, studying her like a doll, and pull her close he so tightly she might break at the same mistaken vacation on the islands had been anything but. He was exhausted and in desperate need of some down time. Some part of him would still prefer to return to the stoic, untouchable person he used to be, but the rewards were already too great to give up. This small girl who'd proved to be both dedicated and strong stood before him, keeping their physical link whole by pressing his palm to her cheek, and watching him with eyes he knew didn't look at anyone the same way. He wasn't sure when or why they started look at him like that, but now he'd come to realize that he'd do whatever necessary to keep it that way. He wasn't just under her spell; he well and truly reciprocated her affections. Whatever changes it might bring, he wanted to stand next to her.

Chelsea seemed to guess he was having some sort of epiphany as he gazed at her and glanced shyly at her feet.

Vaughn's hand pulled away and he instead used it to adjust his hat as he took in a final view of the islands. The snow had disappeared so rapidly, the trees were already budding, and the townspeople were going about their daily lives as if the winter had never happened; a truly seasonal people. He felt a deep inhalation tugging at his lungs. In time with the waves crashing.

"Something about these islands relaxes me..." He looked back at Chelsea's questioning eyes and said quite confidently, "or maybe it's you."

* * *

_ONE YEAR LATER_

Starry Night Festival 6:20pm

She announced her arrival casually with the clatter of the door and the soft "Ahn" that was elicited from the welcoming warmth and smells of the kitchen. The table had been laid with care, displaying thick white ceramic bowls and shiny cutlery yet to be used. She couldn't help but stifle a little snigger; it was so unlike him to be this particular. Said person was actually still in the kitchen, stirring something in their big soup pot slowly, while checking an open recipe book help in the opposite hand. His hat was missing. He was wearing her apron, which was still pristinely white.

Seeing that she couldn't contain herself. "Vaughn!" she yipped happily, throwing her arms around his middle and nuzzling her face against his back. He gave a start but was vigilant not to drop the tome or the spoon.

"Hey! Careful... unless you want to eat your dinner off the floor." He turned in her arms and glowered half-heartedly. She tried to look apologetic but was interrupted by his book tapping once against the side of her head. "Sit down. I hope you're hungry."

"So long as it's better than last time." She teased, sticking her tongue out disdainfully. Those striking violet eyes checked her expression from the side as he went back to his cooking.

"You're lucky I still cook at all with that attitude."

She smiled back innocently, "It's not me who dislikes your cooking, you know." He set down his spoon and instead grabbed the ladle from a crock-pot of utensils on the counter. Chelsea in turn brought their bowls to him to be filled.

"I'm hated before he's even born." The lament was said quietly, his usual twang inaudible.

"You don't know it's a he." The full bowls were placed back on the table before she returned to her husband as he removed the still-clean apron from around his neck. She ran a hand over the bump of her belly and he watched with gentle eyes.

"I have a hunch." His hand overlapped hers where it rubbed.

"Might be a girl." She imagined the little thing, becoming grown and beautiful; hair like spun starlight and eyes like amethyst pools. "Either way I hope it takes after you."

He looked a little embarrassed. His eyes squinted a little as he tried to imagine it with her. Eventually he shook his head, "Either way it's going to be a determined and noisy nuisance just like its mother." He gave her a slanted smile. "Now sit down before your dinner goes cold." He gave her forehead a firm kiss through the bandana and nudged her to her seat. She plopped down and he sat opposite, raising his glass and waiting for her to do the same.

She pouted as he made a toast, "To my wife, who makes everyday a pleasure. And to my son who'd best stop fussing over the menu or be cursed to eat carrots the rest of his days."

Chelsea laughed, "Oh, now I crave carrots!" Vaughn's curse was lost to her snickering and they both began to eat. Outside the snow was falling soundlessly, once again hiding the stars from view.

* * *

_Thank you for reading, favouriting, and most of all thank you to my reviewers. I'm not a chapter-writer; this is blatantly transparent as I feel like somewhere along the way I lost my grip on this, but you stuck with me anyway and kindly provided me with encouragement. At least it has a few pretty words, some nice feelings, and hopefully you enjoyed it to the end. (in all it's cheesy glory)_

_As with any finish I wasn't sure where I wanted it to stop, so there's a bit of many things. I wanted to incorporate my observations on the physicality of a romantic relationship before marriage in the game...which means traditionally: no hankiepankie before vows! When I started writing this I'd obviously read too much shoujo manga prior and was picturing this big sparkly moment before passions ran rampant...However since I put this chapter in Vaughn's head it just didn't seem to match. So I ruined it, and I quite like the outcome. Ties in with the title...I was hoping there would be more moments to push Vaughn to the edge, but since it was my first time writing for the couple I was happily carried away with soppiness._

_The second part ends with something like the first really heartfelt line of script Vaughn gives you in the game. He says this somewhere during orange and red heart while he's really smitten with you. The stark honesty gave my butterflies, and I hope this has done his character justice. I look forward to writing them both again some time. Until then; Adieu!_


End file.
